Creativity + Depression
My creative artistry patterns over the past three years have been extremely interesting to reflect on. I’ve created some of my best artwork while in extremely low mental health states, but I often needed to pull creation from deep within me.
I am an artist by trade and spirit. I’m also an artist with depression. May is Mental Health Awareness month, and I’ve been trying to gather thoughts on creativity + depression the last few weeks. ** Please note these thoughts and experiences are my own, and other artists/humans may have different experiences. I am also not a licensed mental health practitioner, these are simply my reflections.
My ideas feel disconnected from my brain. They’re wiggling inside my imagination, but it feels like I don’t have a key to access my ideas. My creative vision feels cloudy—like I’m looking through gray tinted glasses at the work before me. My focus does not come easily and it is really hard to start projects, let alone finish them. The creative flow is rough and tumultuous, not gentle. When I sit down to create, my hands know what to do but my brain makes them freeze. At some point, the instinct kicks in and it comes a bit more easily — like I’m getting on a bike again.
As an enneagram 4, I thrive on feeling emotionally connected to struggle and emotions — and because my brain is wired that way, I acknowledge I am more susceptible to depression. Because I have an inherent need to feel deeply, it makes me feel like I should be depressed as an artist. My brain tells me that working from a place of suffering makes me more creative.
When creativity is so deeply ingrained in my spirit and also something that makes me feel human, depression takes that away and makes me feel less like myself. A true conundrum and I know it doesn’t make sense, but depression doesn’t give rhyme or reason to conundrums.
Last year, an artist friend (also an enneagram 4 + deep feeler), told me something her therapist told her. She said, “Kate, we have already suffered enough for our work and we don’t need to any more. We have enough to pull from, and it’s okay to release it and be happy.”
That started shifting my glorified woeful/melancholic/suffering mindset, and was a big reason why I decided to start taking medication. I knew I was at a point (and others told me as well) that I would greatly benefit from meds. I did not think I could get back to myself without them. I didn’t need to be suffering as much as I had been, and being alive could be easier.
After struggling with PTSD, depression and anxiety from events over the past couple of years, I have started to feel more like myself again. I feel more capable of feeling my emotional range without letting them overrun me, and I can more logically work through healing.
I started an antidepressant called Celexa (citalopram) in November 2021, and I wish I would have started it sooner. I believe I’ve struggled with anxiety for most of my life (social anxiety as a kid/youth/high schooler/college student), but that may have actually been anxiety anxiety. I just didn’t know that’s what it was.
The medication has significantly eased my baseline, day to day anxiety levels. Life feels more manageable now that I no longer have daily constant rumbles of anxiety. Depression still lingers but I am starting to see more clearly. Creating good, meaningful work from a depressive state makes me wonder what my hands could do, when I no longer carry depression and can create from a space of joy and light.
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Working as a small business owner is challenging, but even more challenging as an artist with depression. Because small things feel so mountainous over me, it is hard to do tasks I need to do or even create new work. Which makes it more difficult to make money and rely on that income — which only feeds the depressive cycle of feeling like a failure, especially because it’s all on me.
Of course, depression traditionally makes it difficult for basic functions at home and for self care. It takes a ridiculous amount of energy for me to take a shower, cook good food, wash dishes or tidy up. Let alone package orders and do bookkeeping and manage social media, and all the other administrative things that come with running your own small business.
When I neglect those tasks, it makes my brain feel more cluttered and overwhelmed, which again — makes it harder for me to create. My studio is in my home, and home environment is really important for productivity.
Everything in that cycle is connected, and when some cogs in the machine aren’t functioning — the entire machine is broken.
I’ve started figuring out ways to make tasks easier for me (systems, as my sister Emmy calls them), or to make them feel like rewards that I deserve. Breaking tasks into smaller steps helps them feel more attainable (HIGHLY recommend a book called “Unfuck Your Habitat”).
I bought a handled sponge that suds soap really well, so washing dishes feels meditative as I watch the bubbles form on my thrifted vintage dishes.
When I’m hyping myself up to take a shower, I think of it as a relaxing thing for myself and that I deserve to take that time and care for myself. I put on music, set out a towel and comfy clothes, and that helps me get in the water. Creativity comes easier to me when my environment/self are in a healthier space because I feel more grounded and safe.
More things that are helping me:
Sage Biscuit, my heeler rescue and best friend. She is truly the biggest blessing of the last two years. Having her helps me wake up in the morning, because she needs me to take her outside and she needs food. I try to eat something when she eats. She also encourages me to go for long walks in our beautiful neighborhood, and that’s good for me because I thrive outdoors.
I am trying to cut back on alcohol and replace that ritual with things that make me happy. Puzzles, unpacking/decorating my home, and reading are activities that bring me joy. Alcohol is indeed a depressant, and creatives are susceptible to believing alcohol can help them create better work. I thought that for a while, but am learning it’s not true for me.
I started taking Vitamin D supplements after getting bloodwork done last year. My levels were at 15 ng/mL, which showed a severe Vitamin D deficiency. I noticed my mood improving after starting the supplements, and am excited to be outside again. My new home has big, south facing windows and I have noticed the natural sunlight is good for me.
I am also moving my body more to ease the disconnect from my limbs. I have never felt comfortable dancing, but I have been trying to dance alone to my favorite songs in my kitchen. That release has been helping me feel more confident and less like a shell. It’s okay if I look silly because the only one watching me is Sage (and she likes jumping around while I move).
My younger self loved yoga, so I have been doing yoga again. Tuning into things my younger self, Little Kate, liked has helped me a lot too. Imagining that I have a responsibility to take care of Little Kate, and trying to treat myself like I’d want her to be treated has been incredibly healing.
It is a goal of mine to find a therapist this year, so I can work through my trauma/healing and gain tools to work with. It’s the classic matter of finding a therapist that works with my insurance and making sure I can afford the sessions. It is unfortunate that mental health care is considered a luxury and not a priority, and that it’s difficult to attain financially. But I believe that therapy in hand with medication is important, so I am hoping to prioritize that and find a therapist by my 29th birthday this summer.
I am trying to reconnect with healthy creativity and joy. After I realized it’s far and infrequent that I feel extreme joy and happiness, I feel a more inherent need to create that for myself and engage in joy-filled opportunities. Being present and not locking myself in isolation has been extremely helpful.
That was a bit of an unorganized ramble, but hopefully something tucked in those words resonated with you. For people with depression, it’s extremely important to remember that there is a way out and it’s not always going to feel like this. I see artists who live with depression and struggle to create. You are not alone, help is out there and there are people who love you. Medication and therapy are not anything to be ashamed of, in fact they can change lives. If you’re struggling with depression, please speak with your doctor or loved ones. My corner is also open, and while I can’t give professional advice — I have been in it and I’m walking through it. If anything, we can help each other not feel as alone. Big love for you, Lionheart.